


Naughty Alayne Plays a Game

by vivilove



Series: Naughty Alayne and Lord Commander Snow [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cunnilingus, F/M, Feels, Fingerfucking, Jealousy, Jonsa Smut Week, Role Playing, Spanking, altered timeline, jealous!Jon, possessive!Jon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-01-27 07:53:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12577152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/pseuds/vivilove
Summary: Making a man jealous on purpose…that is a wicked thing to do. But sometimes honorable men need a push. Something that tips the balance and makes that honorable nature of theirs lean over into something a tad less honorable.It’s only a game, a game that wicked girls like Alayne enjoy playing.And some nights at the Wall, they prefer to forget the shared pain of their family’s tragedies and betrayals. On those night, it’s as well to forget their names in the privacy of his chambers. On those nights, Sansa uses another name. And he only goes by his title.





	Naughty Alayne Plays a Game

**Author's Note:**

> Day #2 Prompt of Jonsa Smut Week on Tumblr -Jealousy
> 
> In case you missed Part 1 in this series-Jon and Sansa know they are cousins and are their show ages instead of book. And Sansa left the Vale and came straight to Jon. No marriage to Ramsey and she is still a maiden...for now. And Jon's not been murdered and resurrected either. There's no mention of the WW threat and the timeline has been altered for many events. This is mostly about the Jonsa love and smut.
> 
> And Melissa made the awesome photo edit below that I added to this story! Thank you, dear!

 

“Thank you, milady,” Satin says with an enthusiast bob of his head. “I’ve not had something so fine in a long while, not since I left…” he trails off, not wishing to discuss his past in the presence of a lady.

“You’re very welcome,” Sansa purrs from where she sits beside her cousin.

She reaches out and pats Satin’s arm affectionately. Her blue eyes sparkle with warmth and pleasure because she has brought a bit of joy to a nice young man, Jon’s own steward. That’s all.

“I thought the embroidered crows on the sleeves would please you.”

She lets her hand linger for just a touch too long…just long enough for Jon to notice.

Jon loudly clears his throat in vexation and mentions needing more ale. The steward scrambles from the high table with an apology, his new tunic carefully tucked under his arm, and goes to fetch the Lord Commander some more ale.

“What are you doing, Sansa?” Jon hisses in her ear once they are alone.

“Eating,” she replies…though she must fight to keep the smirk off her face.

“But why are you…” Jon sputters and gestures towards where Satin had just stood.

“Why am I what, Jon?” she asks, eyes wide with perfect innocence.

“Why would you make Satin a tunic? A tunic especially for him, I mean? He has clothes. We’ve plenty of clothes here that serve to keep him warm.”

“He’s been kind to me. He keeps me company now that your duties keep you busy so often. I’m teaching him to read and he sings for me while I sew. He has a lovely voice.”

Jon scowls and Sansa takes a bite to keep from laughing.

Far too often the Lord Commander’s duties seem to be keeping him away lately. He often does not retire to the chambers that they share until late. Sometimes he does his work in the maester’s quarters rather than sitting at his desk even.

Sansa suspects it is a subterfuge to put some distance between them. He’s been troubled lately over the things they had been doing alone in his chambers at night. Well, Sansa is tired of the distance and his duties and any feeble ploys of Jon’s.

“Why shouldn’t I do something nice for him?” she asks.

Of course, Satin isn’t the only man she’s made clothes for since she arrived. But he’s the first for which she’s made something personally with him in mind…except for Jon.

Jon opens his mouth to speak when Satin returns with his ale. Sansa can feel Jon’s eyes on her but she looks up at the handsome youth by his side. She gives him a radiant smile. Satin’s eyes however, are drawn to the Lord Commander’s face when they’re not on his task.

“Satin?” Sansa prompts. “I heard a rumor that you dance well. Could I impose on you to take a turn or two with me later? It’s been so long since I’ve danced and been merry.”

Jon growls. There’s no other word for it truly. He growls and Satin spills a bit in shock. The Lord Commander shoots an accusing look at poor Satin who turns quite pale.

“There’s no music planned this night,” Jon sneers with barely concealed rage. “We are not a bunch of court entertainers here.”

“Mm-my lady…I-I’m afraid there is no music or merry-making planned tonight. I cannot dance tonight. I have duties,” Satin says nervously.

He finishes pouring Jon’s ale and flees.

“I know what you’re doing…Alayne,” Jon husks in her ear.

_Alayne? So, you do remember our game, Jon._

_No, not Jon now_ , she thinks with a thrill of victory. _The Lord Commander_.

“What would I be doing, my lord?” she asks in a low voice.

“Trying to make me jealous.”

“Jealous?” she scoffs, feigning shock and disbelief.

“Only naughty girls try and rouse a man’s jealousy. Naughty girls get punished,” he says with that glint in his eye, his hot breath washing over her cheek.

Sansa shivers as though his voice and breath have touched her most private place. She squirms in her seat. Oh, why can’t the meal be finished? She longs to reach his chambers and...

“Alayne is a naughty girl,” she whispers before one of the brothers comes up to speak with Lord Commander Snow.

She cannot keep her eyes off him now. He smiles and talks with his men but she can see his jaw is clenched. His foot taps impatiently beneath the table. His hand keeps opening and closing in a fist on top of his thigh. Sansa stares at his strong thigh that is outlined by his breeches. She stares at that hand that keeps flexing.

Her blood is singing in anticipation. He is thrumming with his own desire to leave the hall and his men behind and have her to himself.

Has any cursed meal ever lasted this long?

 

* * *

 

 

_Alayne is a naughty girl._

_Naughty girls get punished._

Control.

Control was something she’d tasted very little of in Kings Landing. There had been some illusion of control in the Vale but she’d still been Petyr’s bastard daughter there. But this…this was something else.

She could trust her cousin Jon. And he trusted her. They worked well together, gave each other strength and succor. In one another they found the affection they’d lacked for so long.

He had taken his little cousin in when she’d fled to him at Castle Black. Many of the men of the Nights Watch thought he would’ve sent her on to some other place by now but he has not. He can’t quite let her go. He loves her. She is his sweet one. She is all the family he has left. But there is more to it than familial affection now. And they both know it if no one else does.

But Jon Snow is an honorable man, as honorable as the uncle that had raised him. And as an honorable man, he is sometimes afraid to act on his baser desires.

However, the Lord Commander is not afraid to act.

Making a man jealous on purpose…that is a wicked thing to do. But sometimes honorable men need a push. Something that tips the balance and makes that honorable nature of theirs lean over into something a tad less honorable.

It’s only a game, a game that wicked girls like Alayne enjoy playing.

And some nights at the Wall, they prefer to forget the shared pain of their family’s tragedies and betrayals. On those night, it’s as well to forget their names in the privacy of his chambers. On those nights, Sansa uses another name. And he only goes by his title.

 

* * *

 

 

 

“You deserve this, don’t you?” he says gruffly in her ear. She can feel his hardness straining into her hip from his breeches.

“I do, Lord Commander. I was a wicked girl to try and make you jealous and I deserve this.”

“Tell me you want it, Alayne,” he commands as he leans back away from her.

“I want it,” she whines.

“What was that?” he asks sharply.

“I want it, _Lord Commander_. Please,” she breaths out right before his hand comes down with a stinging slap on one of her pale, bare cheeks.

She bites her lip but that doesn’t completely stop the little gasp that escapes.

She is spread across his powerful thighs in just her shift. He told her to remove her dress and he’s pushed her small clothes down to her ankles. Now, lying across his lap, he’s lifted her shift up to her hips, her bottom half is completely bare for him.

He is still in his breeches and tunic. And her punishment is just starting tonight. She’s been looking forward to it since dinner when she purposely flirted and fawned over Satin in front of him. Of course, Satin would’ve probably preferred for Jon to flirt with him than her but it served its purpose.

**THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!**

The blows come down in a steady succession leaving her arse more tender each time. But the pain is pleasure to Alayne.

Sansa Stark…that girl that had fled the Vale seeking her cousin Jon Snow...would she have ever willingly and wantonly spread herself across his lap to be spanked? Would Lady Sansa happily let him sup at her cunny or just has happily sucked his cock until he spurted all over her teats?

No. That girl would never have done that.

But Alayne? That naughty bastard girl? She would. She would with Lord Commander Snow.

His hand caresses her arse now. “So good, my Alayne is,” he murmurs. “So soft and so good…and all mine. Aren’t you?”

“I am, Lord Commander. I’m all yours.”

“And you won’t try and make me jealous again, will you?”

“I…”

She looks over her shoulder at his face, the grey of his eyes is nearly concealed by his pupils in his lust. The firelight plays across his stern face. Beneath that stern face though is Jon, Jon who loves her and protects his little cousin Sansa. Alayne is a naughty girl though…and she likes to be punished.

“I won’t…except Satin is a handsome youth and so very kind to me,” she says, knowing it will earn her more punishment.

“Oh?” he says, his voice deep but revealing nothing.

Alayne lowers her head with a sneaky grin on her face.

Like an unexpected flash of lightning, he strikes again.

**THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!**

_“Gah-ahhh!”_ she cries out at last as the pain becomes too much for her to keep silent.

“That’s what naughty girls get, Alayne,” he says but his hand is already rubbing her sore bottom with tenderness.  "Don't forget who you belong to."

“I’m sorry, Lord Commander,” she sniffles. “I won’t forget that I’m yours or try and make you jealous again.”

It’s only half a lie. She’s been his since the day Sansa leapt into Jon’s arms when they were reunited here at Castle Black. She desires no other man.

But it won’t stop her from playing this game.

His hand glides along her thigh, up and up, closer and closer. Her legs fall open, begging him to enter her. He teases but she knows he won’t be able to resist indefinitely.

“My sweet San…Alayne,” he says. His finger traces her folds, a teasing swipe and he chuckles. “My naughty girl is wet, I see. Is that for me or Satin, Alayne?”

“You, Lord Commander…only you,” she assures him.

“That’s right,” he says as he begins to pump his finger in and out of her cunny.

Alayne moans and spreads her legs wider. “Please,” she whispers.

“Please what?”

“I want to peak, my lord,” she begs.

And he indulges her. He always does.

His finger is joined by another, in and out they go. Alayne wiggles on his lap, trying to scooch down to ride his fingers some more. He chuckles at her eagerness and withdraws…until she whimpers another plea.

His thumb brushes her little bud of pleasure, a sacred gift from the gods, he has called it.

 _For your pleasure, Alayne…and mine_ , he has told her.

It never takes long for him to have her writhing, face down across his lap this way. But the blood has rushed to her head and she feels dizzy. He always seems to know it, too. He pulls her up to her feet and she is hobbled by her small clothes that are still twisted around her ankles. He stands and lifts her in his arms, like he’s carrying his bride to bed.

_Am I your bride?_

Alayne is a bastard girl and this may be the closest she ever comes to such a thing.

He pulls her shift over her head and tosses it away. He drags her small clothes the rest of the way off and pockets them.

“Lie back, Alayne,” he commands.

She stretches across the bed. He takes off his tunic and breeches. Only his small clothes remain. Ghost snores by the fire. He is untroubled by the noises they make and he sleeps through their play most nights.

“Shall I touch you, Lord Commander?” she asks.

“No, Alayne. I’m hungry tonight.”

“There’s bread, cheese and ale in the cupboard, my lord,” she says, knowing that is not what he wants.

“Aye…bread, cheese and ale,” he repeats with a smirk. “I believe there’s something else I’d rather sup on tonight.”

“Satin could bring us something else,” she suggests and delights in the way his nostrils flare at the mention of the handsome youth.

“No,” he barks. “I don’t want anything Satin can fetch. I want…”

“My cunny?” she asks.

Her cheeks still flame when she says the word. Sansa Stark would never use words like cock or cunny. But Alayne is a bastard and is not supposed to mind crude words.

His eyes always soften at her blushes. She could curse in vexation for it. He is too good. He is too kind. The lord commander is stern. The lord commander could be cold and would never care about what makes a girl blush.

“Yes, my sweet one,” he says…in Jon’s voice.

No, no…she is Alayne. Jon calls Sansa sweet one. He is getting it wrong. He’ll ruin the game.

“Eat, my lord,” she says, spreading her legs and trying to draw him back to their play.  She uses a hand to spread her folds like a whore might.  His eyes grow darker.  His manhood is ready to burst through his small clothes, she thinks.  “Sup on my cunny.”

And he does…oh, he does so well. He sucks and licks, nibbles and teases. He is a rogue. He is an angel. He knows just how to make Alayne wanton and boneless with that tongue of his.

His mouth is hungrily sucking at her little bud as his fingers pump in and out of her cunny. Alayne fists the bed furs in her hands and squeals with delight.

His mouth takes the place of his fingers and he tongues her cunny, working her to a fevered pitch of need. His rough thumb deftly tweaks her bud and circles it as Alayne screams, “Yes, my lord! Don’t stop!”

“Who do you belong to?” he asks just as she starts to soar.

“You!”

“Say my name,” he begs.

“Lord Commander Snow!”

“No…say _my_ name, sweet one.”

His fingers are busy and his tongue laps at her wet cunny once…twice…thrice.

 _He’s going to stop if I don’t say it_ , she realizes. _Oh, he is a wicked man and perhaps he’ll be punished next_.

This isn’t their game but she is so close and he is…

“JON!” she shouts.

“Again,” he mumbles into her folds as she ascends the top of the Wall and starts to fall.

“Jon! I’m yours, Jon! _Ahhhh!”_ she cries as the world disappears in a flash of white light and she floats down.

She lies there wondering what just happened exactly. She can hear him lapping up the last of her cream from her peak. He makes noises like a starving man at a feast. Sansa Stark would find it indecent. Alayne likes it.

Often times, he tells her to take him with her hand or her mouth when he is done giving her pleasure. Then, he spills his seed across her body…or sometimes in her mouth.

But tonight, he does not. He crawls onto the bed and pulls the furs over them both.

“My lord?” she questions.

“ _Shush…_ no more of that. It’s time to sleep now, love,” he says as he wipes down his beard and kisses her tenderly on her cheek.

“But…”

“Sleep, Sansa,” he says as he yawns.

“Jon?”

“My Sansa,” he breaths against her skin as he pulls her body against his own. His cock is still hard but softening already.

“You didn’t even peak,” she says in a final effort.

“This is enough for now. You are enough, my love…my sweet one,” he whispers into her ear. “You’re mine, Sansa.”

He stills and grows quiet and soon he is snoring like the wolf by the fire.

But the girl in his arms does not know what to think. She wonders what sort of game they’re playing now…and sleep is a long time coming.


End file.
